by Connie Mason
Curious, Gillian asked, “What scheme?”
Gizela’s eyes clouded over. “There will be difficult times, but the flame will prevail. Search for the proof, lass, for the truth will prevail.”
Gizela’s vague reply annoyed Gillian. “What does that mean?”
Gizela shuddered. “You must seek the truth.”
“I doona—”
“Get some rest, Gillian, lass. The difficult times I spoke of are near at hand.”
Sensing that she would get naught more from Gizela this night, Gillian cast one last glance at Ross and lay down on the cot. She fell asleep the moment she laid her head on the pillow.
Someone was shaking her. Gillian awoke to harsh voices and light stabbing against her eyelids. Immediately alert, she rose on her elbow and stared up at Alice. “What is it? Is Ross ...?”
“Naught has changed with the laird,” Alice said. “Gordo wishes to speak with you. He said ’tis urgent.”
Gillian rose shakily to her feet. She took several steps toward the bed before Gordo appeared in front of her.
“What is it, Gordo? Why are you looking at me like that?”
“My kinsmen want you gone. ’Tis none of my doing, Gillian; believe me. But I fear for your life if you doona leave now. Talk is getting ugly below. With no one else to blame, your kinsmen are the likely suspects. I want to keep you safe for Ross’s sake.”
“This is all Seana’s doing,” Gillian bit out. “If she hadna put ideas in people’s heads, no one would blame me for harming Ross. I am innocent, Gordo; I swear it.”
“I believe you, lass,” Gordo agreed. “But I am sending you away to keep you from harm. Your horse is saddled, and Hanna has prepared provisions for your journey. The weather is not too harsh yet; you should have no problem reaching Braeburn. We willna ken the truth until Ross can speak.”
“You’re forcing me to leave?” Gillian cried. “Nay, I need to be with Ross. No one can care for him as well as I can.”
“You will kill him,” Seana said from the doorway. “Leave now, while you are still able.”
“I willna let the laird die, mistress,” Gizela said from Ross’s bedside.
“And I will help care for him,” Alice promised.
Ross groaned and began to thrash. Gillian pushed Gordo aside and raced to his bedside. “Ross, can you hear me?”
Ross mumbled something indecipherable and stared blankly up at her. “He’s awake!” Gillian cried.
“Nay, lass, he sees naught,” Gizela assured her.
“Come away, Gillian.” Gordo said, easing her away from the bed. “You must leave before the threats against you are put into action. ’Tis for your own good.”
“Go, lassie,” Gizela urged. “Remember what I said, and do what must be done to find the proof.”
“What are you babbling about, Gizela?” Seana asked. “We’ve heard enough of your crazed muttering.”
“I’ll fetch your fur-lined cloak and the bag I packed for you, mistress,” Alice said as she went to the wardrobe for the items.
“You packed my bag?” Gillian asked, stunned.
“I had no choice. Gordo ordered it. You will need this,” Alice said as she handed Gillian her sword. Immediately Gillian strapped the sheath across her body so that the sword rested between her shoulder blades.
Then Alice placed the cloak around Gillian’s shoulders and thrust a purse into her hand. Inside were the coins Tearlach MacKay had given her for a wedding gift.
“I’ll carry the bag out for you and fetch the provisions for your journey from the kitchen.”
“I’m not leaving Ross,” Gillian insisted.
“I value your life, even if you doona,” Gordo said kindly.
“You have a strange way of showing it,” Gillian shot back.
“I but wish to protect you. I ken my nephew is inordinately fond of you.”
Gillian sent a pleading look toward Gizela. The healer’s eyes were downcast. She could expect no help from that quarter.
She tore her eyes away from the bed, where Ross now lay still as death, and slowly walked to the door. Abruptly she turned. “Take care of him, Gizela. Doona let Seana near him. She wishes him ill.”
“Nay, Gillian, you misjudge Seana,” Gordo said. “She is a MacKenna now.”
When Gillian glanced at Gizela, she read confirmation of Seana’s guilt in the healer’s rheumy eyes and knew Gizela would protect Ross.
Gillian paused and glanced over her shoulder as Ravenscraig’s gate closed firmly behind her. Briefly she wondered if she had been wise to decline Gordo’s offer to escort her to Braeburn. Then she felt her sword resting against her back and knew she would be all right.
“I wish you Godspeed and a safe journey home,” Gordo called to her through the gate.
“Will you keep me informed of Ross’s progress?” Gillian asked.
“When Ross recovers enough to tell us what happened, we will let you know.”
A sob clogged Gillian’s throat as she nodded her understanding. Gordo’s promise wasn’t much, but it was all she had. She reined Silver toward Braeburn, shivering beneath her cloak. She worried that her father was going to demand satisfaction from Clan MacKenna when he learned she had been forced from Ravenscraig, and that lives would be lost. Knowing Tearlach, he wouldn’t let the insult go unpunished. She feared a battle was brewing, and she didn’t know how to stop it.
Gillian had traveled but a short distance when Gizela’s parting words began to penetrate through the thick fog of her brain. Gizela had told her to find proof of her innocence. It never occurred to Gillian that her father might be responsible for wounding Ross. Tearlach MacKay was a man of his word. Once he agreed to a truce, he would never break it. He would wish no harm to his daughter’s husband.
Gillian pulled on Silver’s reins. The mare stomped to a stop and pawed the frozen ground. Gillian realized she couldn’t return to Braeburn. Not yet, anyway. She had to find out if the name Ross had spoken in his delirium had been that of his assailant. She was the only one who had heard the name, the only one who could prove both her innocence and that of Clan MacKay.
Her mind made up, Gillian reined Silver in a different direction. Though she would have a great distance to travel, it had to be done.
Shivering beneath her fur-lined cloak, the hood pulled low over her brow, Gillian stopped once shortly after midday to eat the food Hanna had prepared, and to rest her horse. Though it was cold, there was no sleet or snow, allowing Gillian to continue throughout the afternoon. She knew the way to her destination, for she’d visited the small fortress a time or two with her family. When she reached the small village of Halkirk, she knew she could travel no farther this day and must find a place to stay. The wind had picked up; very few people were out on the street at this time of day. Most would be tucked up snug and warm in their cottages with their families. The church bell began chiming vespers as she rode down the deserted street, looking for an inn.
The main thoroughfare held naught but a few shops that had already closed for the night. Cold and weary, Gillian felt as if she carried the world on her shoulders; so much depended on her. With no place to stay, she urged her valiant mare forward, noting with alarm that the wind had picked up, and large, fluffy snowflakes were drifting down from the sky.
Just when she feared she would freeze to death before reaching her destination, she saw a lad crossing the street and hailed him. He stopped and waited for her to reach him.
“Are you lost, lady?” he asked.
“I’m in need of lodging for the night,” Gillian explained. “Is there an inn hereabouts?”
“Nay, we are but a small village, but my granny Maddie sometimes takes in stranded travelers.”
Relief washed through Gillian. “Can you take me there? I will pay whatever she asks.”
“Follow me, lady,” the lad said as he sprinted down the street. At the edge of town he turned down a lane that led to a tidy cottage with a light burning in the window. “This is
Granny Maddie’s cottage,” the lad said.
Gillian dismounted. “My mare needs food and water. She has carried me a long way.”
“I can tend your mare, lady. Granny Maddie has a lean-to behind the house. She’ll be nice and cozy there.”
Gillian fished out a coin from her purse and tossed it to the boy. “Rub her down well, please.”
The lad looked at the silver in his hand and grinned. “Doona worry none, lady; I will take good care of your mare. Leave everything to me. I’ll give her a measure of oats, if it pleases you.”
“Yes, that will be fine,” Gillian said as she removed her bag tied to the saddle. “What is your name, lad?”
“Duncan McHamish.”
“Thank you for your help, Duncan McHamish.”
The boy touched his forelock and led Silver away. Gillian approached the cottage and knocked on the door. A small dumpling of a woman with rosy cheeks and white hair answered the summons.
“Your grandson told me you might be able to put me up for the night,” Gillian said through chattering teeth.
“Would that be Duncan?” Maddie asked. Gillian nodded. Maddie motioned Gillian inside. “Come in, lassie, so I can shut the door. I am Maddie McHamish and you are ... ?”
“Gillian MacKay,” she answered, purposely using her maiden name now that she was among the allies of her clan. “Mayhap you know my father, Tearlach.”
“Not personally, but I’ve heard of him. Have you traveled a great distance?” When Gillian nodded, she went on. “You poor wee thing, you must be cold and hungry.” She glanced past Gillian into the growing darkness. “Are you alone?”
“Aye, I hope that doesna make a difference.”
“Nay, it doesna. Sit yourself by the fire while I fix you something to eat. I have a small room off the kitchen that should serve you nicely, and I’ll build up the fire in the hearth so it will be warm and cozy.”
“I can pay for my lodging and food,” Gillian said.
“I doona require payment, but your coin will be welcome,” Maddie said as she led a shivering Gillian to the hearth and pulled up a bench for her to sit on.
“Shall I take your cloak?” Maddie asked.
Warmed by the fire, Gillian nodded, forgetting that she carried her sword in a sheath strapped to her back.
“Oh, my,” Maddie said. “I see you are armed.”
Gillian removed the sword and leaned it against the hearth. “I never go anywhere unarmed.”
“There’s hot water in the kettle on the hob over the hearth. Mayhap you want to wash your hands and face before you eat.”
“I’d like that,” Gillian replied.
Maddie found a cracked bowl, poured water from the kettle into it, and retrieved a clean cloth from a cupboard. “There’s cold water in the bucket on the sink. Use what you need, lass, while I dish out your supper.”
Gillian busied herself at the sink as delicious odors wafted to her from the food Maddie was ladling into a bowl. After she finished washing, she approached the scarred oaken table, which had been bleached nearly white, and sat down.
“The fare is plain but filling,” Maddie said as she placed a bowl of thick mutton-and-barley stew in front of her guest. Maddie hummed to herself as she cut thick slices of bread and fetched butter from a cupboard.
Gillian tucked into the meal, sighing blissfully as the hot stew warmed her stomach. “This is delicious.” She bit off a hunk of bread and chewed thoughtfully. “Are you related to Douglas McHamish and his daughter, Seana?”
Maddie chuckled. “Everyone hereabouts is related in some way to the McHamish. Do you plan on visiting McHamish Keep?”
“Aye. I ken ’tis close, but I couldna continue farther tonight; I’ve traveled too far today in the cold.”
“The castle is an hour ride from here, but you look too done-in to continue, lassie. You’ll sleep comfortably tonight. I keep the room made up for travelers in need of shelter. I enjoy the company.” She picked up a candlestick. “Follow me, Gillian MacKay.”
Gillian retrieved her bag and followed Maddie to a small alcove off the kitchen. It was furnished with a narrow bed—piled high with blankets—a chair, and a nightstand. Maddie set the candle down on the nightstand.
“ ’Tisna fancy, but at least you will be warm and dry. There’s a chamber pot under the bed. Sleep as late as you like.”
“Thank you, Maddie. You have been most kind.”
After Maddie left, Gillian undressed and climbed into bed. She was so weary, she fell instantly asleep.
She awoke the next morning after a deep, dreamless sleep to the sound of movement in the tiny kitchen.
As much as Gillian hated to leave the warm bed, she knew she should depart before she lost her nerve. If she could prove the McHamish was the renegade who had attacked Ross, he would be made to pay.
“Did I wake you?” Maddie asked when a short time later Gillian entered the kitchen carrying her bag.
“Nay, ’twas time I was up and on my way.”
“Sit down and break your fast with me and Duncan, Gillian MacKay. Only a poor host would send a guest away hungry.”
Gillian noticed the lad standing near the hearth and smiled at him. “Good morning, Duncan.”
Duncan touched his forelock and smiled back. “Good morning, lady. I’ll saddle your wee mare when you’re ready to leave.”
Gillian moved to the table and sat down. Duncan joined her. Gillian wasn’t about to leave without breaking her fast. She had no idea when or where her next meal would come from. Mayhap she wouldn’t be alive to see another meal. Besides, she couldn’t resist the platter of eggs and ham, fresh bread, and hot tea Maddie placed before her.
“Dig in, lassie,” Maddie said as she joined Gillian and Duncan at the table.
The food was delicious, and among them they cleaned the platter.
“ ’Tis time I was off,” Gillian said.
“I’ll fetch your mare,” Duncan said, ducking through the door.
Gillian reached into the purse attached to her waist, removed two silver coins, and handed them to Maddie.
“Oh, nay, lassie, ’tis too much,” Maddie demurred.
“You saved my life, Maddie McHamish. If anything, ’tis not enough.”
Maddie accepted the coins and fetched Gillian’s fur-lined cloak as Gillian buckled the sheath and sword across her body.
“Will I see you again, Gillian MacKay?”
“I doubt it, Maddie.”
“Then God go with you, lassie.”
Gillian opened the door, pulling her cloak tight about her as a blast of cold air took her breath away. Silver was already saddled and waiting; Duncan handed her the reins and gave her a boost up.
“Do you need directions?” Maddie asked from the front door.
“Nay, I know the way. I thank you most kindly, Maddie McHamish.”
Gillian wondered what Maddie would have done if she’d known Gillian was on her way to accuse her kinsman of a terrible crime. She probably would have turned her out in the cold to freeze to death. Gillian sighed. If McHamish was responsible for wounding Ross and leaving him to die, then he deserved punishment. For all she knew, Ross could be dead by now. That thought firmed her resolve to learn the truth.
After more than an hour of slogging through light snow, Gillian saw McHamish Keep sitting atop a hill across the glen. She urged Silver onward, not surprised to find the portcullis closed and armed men stationed atop the wall walk.
“What do you want, lady?” a man armed with bow and quiver called down to her.
“I wish to speak with Douglas McHamish. Open the gate.”
“Who are you?”
“Gillian MacKay. Ask your laird if he is afraid to face a woman.”
The man disappeared. Gillian huddled in her cloak as she waited, her patience hanging by a slim thread. Did McHamish intend to keep her outside until she froze to death? Apparently not, for moments later she saw Douglas McHamish himself striding through the bailey toward the gate
.
“What do you want, Gillian MacKay?” McHamish asked warily.
“I’ve come a long way to see you. Are you nae going to invite me inside to warm myself by your fire?”
Gillian knew McHamish would comply. Hospitality was sacred in the Highlands. It was unthinkable that McHamish would deny a guest entry. McHamish nodded to the gatekeeper, and the portcullis was slowly cranked open. Gillian urged Silver through the opening. A lad ran up to take the reins from her.
“Follow me,” McHamish said, turning abruptly toward the keep.
McHamish Keep was small compared to Braeburn and Ravenscraig, but the inside was attractive and fragrant with the scent of fresh pine rushes. McHamish’s second wife, a haughty blond, swished over to greet her. McHamish made the introductions.
After a cursory glance at Gillian’s flaming hair, Eileen McHamish asked, “What brings you to us on a raw day like this, Gillian MacKay?”
Gillian. thought Eileen’s manner a bit chilly. “I but wish a private word with your husband.”
Eileen’s eyebrows arched upward. “Did you nae wed the MacKenna? Where is your husband?”
Slicing an accusatory glance at the McHamish, Gillian said, “Ross is... presently indisposed.”
Eileen frowned. “Your business must be important to warrant traveling alone. Will you warm yourself by the fire and have a bite to eat?”
Gillian shook her head. “Nay, my business canna wait.” She turned to McHamish. “I would speak with you in private.”
The wary look she had noticed earlier had not left McHamish’s eyes.
“Shall I take Gillian MacKay to the solar?” Eileen asked. “No one will bother us there.”
“What I have to say is for McHamish’s ears alone,” Gillian said, earning a scowl from Eileen.
When his wife started to protest, McHamish said, “Verra well, lass, but I doona know what we might have to discuss.”
Gillian felt Eileen’s eyes boring into her back as she followed McHamish up the winding staircase; she prayed she wasn’t about to accuse a man falsely. Had Ross really spoken the name in his delirium, or had he said something entirely different? Nay, she had heard the name clearly Squaring her shoulders, she formed in her mind the words she wished to say.
